Time for Letting Go
by sheppardlover928
Summary: A fond memory helps John deal with the news of his father's death.


**Time to Let Go**

"Miss Martha, when is Daddy coming hooome?" John sat, at the counter, hunched over with his tiny chin lying on his crossed arms. The look of ultimate boredom on his face.

Martha Tristan, looked sideways at the pouting little boy and smiled. Johnny was just too cute for words and she fleetingly thought how those brilliant hazel eyes would dazzle many a girl when he got older.

"Johnny, you just need to be patient. Your father will be home soon. Come, help me roll out this dough for the blueberry pie."

The boy's face lit up with the task set before him. He always liked to help Miss Martha in the kitchen...mostly because he got to taste-test everything first. She set the rolling pin in front of him, sprinkled some flour on the countertop and plopped the ball of dough in front of him.

He spent several minutes patting the dough down and then began rolling it flat. He swiped his dark hair out of his eyes, smearing flour across his forehead. Intent on making the dough flat, he worked the rolling pin over and around like she had taught him. Occasionally she helped him, but she was amazed at how meticulous he was being to do it right.

"Miss Martha...you're the bestest nanny me and Davy has so far. I hope you never leave." He looked up at her with such sad eyes, she couldn't help but grab the little boy and hug him close. His tiny arms hugged her back tightly.

Martha's heart ached for the little boy. Just turned five, he had had to endure losing his mother to cancer and now, a father who was trying to cope with his own loss, two young sons and a company that demanded much of his attention.

Their embrace was cut short when the noise of the front door opening made the little boy gasp with joy. He looked up at her with the biggest smile. "He's home!" And with that , he jumped down off the stool and ran out to greet his father, mindless that his hands were covered in flour.

Patrick Sheppard heard...before he saw, his youngest son barreling down the hallway. He smiled and hurriedly placed his keys down on the vestibule table and held his arms out to catch the excited boy.

"Daddy, you home! Me and Miss Martha is making you a Buberry pie!"

His father gave him a huge hug and then realized too late what that meant.

"Oh, Johnny!Look what you've done! This is an expensive suit and brand new to boot." He held the little boy out, a disgusted look on his face when he saw the shoulders of his suit jacket with little handprints all over them.

He put Johnny down to wipe himself off, oblivious to the tear-filled eyes and sad face that had replaced the happy, jubilant face moments before. When 'he was done fussing over his suit, his attention was drawn to his son and immediately, he felt bad.

Kneeling down on one knee, he brought the boy in for a hug. "I'm sorry, Johnny, Daddy isn't mad. Hey, how about you finish helping Miss Martha with the pie while I clean up. Then you can go with me to pick up Davy from his piano lesson. Maybe we'll stop and get pizza to bring back for dinner. But I'll have to save room for some of that pie!." He tickled his son and was relieved when he heard his son laugh. "I love you Johnny"

The fond memory (minus the soiled suit) of that day popped into John's head as he sat, trying to comprehend the news Sam had just delivered to him less than an hour ago. His father had passed, a heart attack...any chance he had of trying to make amends with his father were gone.

He stood abruptly and clenched his fists. Why hadn't he taken time to do it...he should have gone that last week, before the expedition was to leave. Maybe he could have talked to his father one last time, but he had decided not to, afraid the old man would shun him. His last words to John still stung as much now as they did then.

He sighed and shook out his clenched fists. Time to let go. He could continue to let those words haunt him or he could remember the good times. He wonder if Dave would welcome him back, heck..he wondered if he should even go back at all. Maybe it was just too damn late.

But, he knew he would regret not saying goodbye one last time and he did want to feel out how Dave felt too. Maybe, just maybe he could rekindle his relationship with his brother and feel like he had something to connect him to his roots on Earth once again.

Without thinking, he grabbed his duffel bag and started to pack.

Fin

ps. I realized after finishing this that it was to be from John's viewpoint but the memory seems more from Miss Martha's viewpoint too...I loved the scene too much to change it, so there you go...my bad. ; )


End file.
